Catch Your Fall
by SerNature
Summary: An Alistair/Tabris prompt fic. Full of awkwardness and fluff!
1. Dream

_So, TFH is on indefinite hiatus (I put an explanation in my profile if you follow that story and are curious) and this is my next little project until I iron out the details of a post-game fic. Camilia Tabris is my rather idealistic, naive, awkward city elf, all red hair and freckles. This is a prompt fic for her relationship with Alistair. Expect a lot of fluff, some eventual angst(and when I say angst, I mean **ANGST**), and a smattering of smut.  
_

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_Oh, Maker_, Camilia thought to herself, sweat cooling on her pale skin as she caught her breath, _how am I going to look him in the eye after **that**?_ How could she have one of _those_ dreams about Alistair? He was her only friend left, the only other Grey Warden... _with the cutest dimples and eyes like honey and muscles-- **NO.** Stop. BAD, Cami. BAD. _The elf let out a shuddering breath, wiping the perspiration from her brow, desperately trying to collect her thoughts. There was _no way_ she was going back to sleep. Not after the images of... _no_, sleep was definitely not going to happen. Sighing, she sat up, pawing around her tent until she found an old shirt to towel off her body.

Deciding her time would be better spent fletching or reading or _anything_ but stewing in those dirty thoughts, she tied her flame-orange hair back into a poor excuse for a ponytail, and scrambled out of her tent.

"You didn't have another nightmare, did you?" _Oh, **darn it**._

Camilia's emerald eyes rose to see the main attraction of her subconscious staring back at her, brows knit together in worry. Despite the uncomfortable situation (unbeknownst to Alistair) her mind couldn't help but point out how utterly adorable that little forehead wrinkle was. He had already finished his watch, just as she had, and was obviously recently roused from sleep, evidenced in his half-lidded eyes and tousled hair, along with his rumpled clothing. It wasn't too unlike the images she had just moments before, and Camilia found her throat very dry all the sudden.

Still, she manged to speak. "Hello, Alistair." _Smooth, Cami. _Her inner self had been taking sarcasm lessons from Morrigan lately, it seemed.

Alistair's face seemed to relax somewhat, even though she avoided his question. "Hello, Camilia. Lovely night, isn't it?" he said, eyes casting upward, followed by an overly dramatic, wistful sigh. "Gazing at the stars is _so_ much better than sleep."

She sucked on her pink lower lip before answering. "I-it _is_ rather n-nice tonight. I d-don't really mind m-missing some sleep."

He laughed. "You wouldn't. I swear you haven't a bad word for _anything._" Alistair's words were teasing, but his voice was soft. Almost like when he talked about his time with the Wardens, but _lighter_. Before she could mull on this, he continued. "Come on, at least grace me with your company for awhile," he said, patting the ground next to him. "You can tell me all about the darkspawn being 'misunderstood' and how they just need hugs to stop their wanton destruction of Ferelden."

Camilia felt herself "hmph" at his words, managing a suitably disdainful glare that only lasted a half second at most when she saw his cheeks dimple; the glare melted into a bashful smile. She half-ran over to his side, plopping down on her rear gracelessly, the inertia nearly sending her careening onto her side in the process. Luckily, her quick reflexes saved her from being completely humiliated, though his giggling as she righted herself served to color her cheeks, regardless.

They were close enough that their knees were touching; she wasn't sure if she should pull away, or that would make him think she didn't want him touching her. Not that she wanted him to touch her... not that she _didn't_ want him to touch her... Camilia rolled her eyes, frustrated with her own mind.

She narrowed her eyes at her fellow Warden. "I _do not_ think the darkspawn n-need hugs," she declared, fully aware how petulant she was being. "but we don't know m-much about them otherwise... it _is_ possible th-that we don't... _understand_ them l-like we should."

Surprisingly, he nodded, stretching one of his long legs out before him. "You're probably right, come to think of it. Whatever their reasons – if they do have any – they still need to be stopped." Camilia returned his nod and he smiled. "I really wasn't looking to wax philosophical, though; did you have another nightmare, or are you going to avoid the question again?

"I... um. N-no. It wasn't a nightmare," she replied, avoiding his gaze and praying to the Maker her cheeks weren't as flushed as they felt.

"Oh? Thought I heard you thrashing about in your tent," Alistair commented; she could _hear_ his brow furrowing. "I just had a normal weird dream. Something about cheese and flying dogs. Not scary, but I'm afraid to let my subconscious back in control just yet. That what happened to you?"

For some Maker forsaken reason, she lifted her eyes to meet that warm, honey gaze of his. "S-sort of," was her meek response.

Alistair seemed perplexed, but only for a moment. His eyes widened and he let out a bark of laughter. "Unbelievable. _You_ had a naughty dream, didn't you?" Camilia's face felt like it was _on fire_ and she heard the templar laugh again. "Hah! You _so did, _you little _minx_." Oh, Maker; she was going to _die_, she just knew it.

Camilia wanted to say _something_; defend her honor, or tell him off for intruding on her own _very personal_ thoughts, or even just running off as to not have to listen to his smug chortles. However, her body seemed more intent on rolling in on itself: she drew her knees up to her chest, and hid her face, hands cradling the back of her head in a vain hope that the position would somehow make her disappear. Of course, it did no such thing, and Alistair was not about to let this go.

"About who, I wonder?" he teased, nudging her shoulder. "Hmm. Sten? That seems like it'd _hurt_; you aren't into that sort of thing, are you?"

Her eyes widened, snapping her head up at his words, a mouse-like squeak of terror leaving her lips. She shook her head vigorously; Alistair just grinned. Camilia didn't often get urges to hit someone, but she was _so close_ to hitting him.

"Alright, alright!" His hands went up in surrender, dropping to his thighs soon after. "Well, you have too much class and common sense to be with Morrigan..."

"Alistair. Stop. I didn't--" Camilia began, only to be cut off.

"Was it Leliana?" he asked, eyebrows shooting up to his hairline. "If so, can I have details? Please?"

"_No._"

"'No', you didn't have a dream about Leliana? Or 'no' I can't have details? If it's the latter, you are a cruel, cruel woman."

Camilia rolled her eyes, scrubbing her hands over her face. "_No I did not have a dream about Leliana._" The words were rushed and muffled by her hand, but she managed to get them out.

"Oh-ho!" Alistair grinned triumphantly; why he was so victorious she had-- "So you _did_ have a saucy dream."

She felt herself blink a few times, jaw hanging open. "I... but you... I didn't..."

Her fellow Warden continued as if she hadn't said a thing. "And since you denied everyone else... you had a dream about _me?_" he asked, incredulous.

Camilia bit her lip, averting her gaze. Oh, Maker; she was sure her cheeks were redder than her hair. What was she supposed to say? She didn't want to _lie_ to him; he had to already know, anyway. She denied everyone else, and her deafening silence was answer enough. Daring to look in his eyes, she found him surprisingly serious, a slight pinkness tinging his cheeks. Emboldened by his own shyness, she decided to speak.

"I...hadasexdreamaboutyou; I'msorry," she rushed out, clenching her eyes shut to avoid seeing his revulsion.

Alistair was quiet for a long moment, only the crackle of the fire and their breathing breaking through the silence. The elf squirmed in her seat, gnawing her lower lip raw, until finally daring to open her eyes. He was still staring at her, though this time there was a smirk tugging on the corner of his lips; the slight slant made something in her stomach twist, and her extremities tingle.

"Well, in that case: I'm quite flattered, my lady." He inclined his head, seemingly serious. "I do hope I treated you well." Those amber eyes glittered with mirth and... something else. Something that made her heart speed up.

Before she could bite her tongue, she found herself replying, "Oh... yo-you did. V-very well." The moment the words were out of her mouth, her eyes doubled in size, as did Alistair's.

Clasping both hands over her mouth, she scampered back to her tent without a second look, vaguely aware of a string of chuckles permeating from the campfire. Camilia plopped on her bedroll face first, the cool pillow doing nothing for the molten lava that had to be covering her cheeks. Blindly, she groped for her blanket, pulling it over her body and covering her head, praying to the Maker this was just a dream.


	2. Embrace

_Thank you for all the reviews! 3_

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Alistair wasn't sure how he was supposed to go on like this. Duncan was dead. Cailan was dead. The Wardens of Ferelden were dead, save him and a young slip of an elf who seemed just as shaken as he was. It was up to _them_ to stop the fight; the very thought of it was preposterous – he was a bastard son who couldn't lead a horse to water if it were two feet in front of him, and she... well, he wasn't sure about her. There were times she seemed fierce and determined, times she took control, but more often than not the elf acted _frightened_ of damn near everything. Maybe it was just a side-effect of her doe-eyes, but she seemed far too innocent to be out fighting darkspawn.

That being said, she seemed completely unfazed by the witch that was "volunteered" to come along with them. In fact, Camilia seemed almost in awe of her, which did _not_ sit well with him at all. Still, he was glad to have _someone_ around, even if she was just as confused and scared as he was.

They had spent most of the evening traveling towards the small village of Lothering, finally stopping in a clearing, if it could be called such a thing. The trees of the Korcari Wilds had roots that ran on for miles, forcing the ground up in to inconvenient bumps every few feet, making it near impossible to set camp anywhere, even when they found a bare patch of land. Such was the case here: they had enough room to set down two bedrolls and have a tiny fire, but that was it. Morrigan had offered to take first watch, under the pretense of needing to sleep uninterruptedly for her to be as efficient as possible; Alistair figured it was because she wanted _him_ to take second watch, just so he'd be even more miserable the next morning. The witch's plan didn't count on Camilia suggesting she take that dreaded time slot, though. If he wasn't so worried about his fellow Warden, Alistair would have found the annoyed look on Morrigan's face entertaining.

The newly inducted elven Warden sat by the fire, knees drawn up to her chest, arms hugging them as close as possible. She seemed overwhelmed; it wasn't surprising, all things considered, but Alistair had little to no experience with women, least of all needing to comfort them. Was it that different from comforting a man? He had no idea; it didn't seem to make any sense that he shouldn't offer her an embrace because she had _breasts_. Not that he noticed.

Camilia's soft voice broke his chain of thought. Thankfully. "Th-this place is t-terrifying."

He nodded. "Yes, I'm beginning to see why this isn't a popular vacation destination." Sighing, he leaned back on his hands, ignoring the sogginess inherent to swamp land. "Tree roots out to break your neck, and... well, _them," _he said, jerking a thumb toward a patrolling Morrigan.

She rubbed her hands over her biceps, shivering; he had an inexplicable urge to hold her, or find a blanket, but he suppressed it. "I feel so _alone_." Camilia's words were almost lost in the harsh wind, but he caught them.

"Look, I know... I know this is all pretty overwhelming. Maker knows I have no sodding clue how we're going to manage this whole 'save the world' thing, but I _do_ know you aren't alone," he replied, tilting his head in her direction. "You're my bro-- er, _sister_-in-arms, now; I won't abandon you. Even if I'm--"

His words were cut off by a tiny elf catapulting herself into him, wrapping surprisingly strong arms around his waist. She scooted as close as she could without being _on him_ and rested her ivory cheek on his chest. Alistair was hesitant, but only for a moment, his own long arms soon wrapping around her shoulders, temple coming to rest on the crown of her head.

"Thank you." she murmured, lips moving against his clothing.

It was an instinctive reaction to kiss her hair, and instead of pushing him away or berating him for such a forward gesture, she seemed to be comforted by it. Neither of them moved for... he wasn't sure how long. The position was uncomfortable for the both of them, he knew, but it didn't seem worth it to let her go. Camilia needed to know someone was there for her, and frankly, he did too.


	3. Joke

_Wow that only took me like forever. I am sorry for being such a Flakey McFlakersten. Also, my bestest friend in the whole wide world (fanfiction) .net/u/1780200/Hermia_S went and decided to be even more awesome and made me a fanart. __(_fair-hermia. deviantart_) .com/art/How-Sweet-It-Is-167252631__. SHOWER HER WITH LOVE AND ADORATION. BE IN AWE OF HER AMAZINGNESS. Also, please enjoy. :3 (remove the spaces and parentheses for the urls.)  
_

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Camilia was at her place by the fire, expertly mending one of her shirts than her mabari, Riley, had decided to make into a chew toy while she had been asleep. She didn't have the heart to scold him; everyone deserved some entertainment once in awhile, and he was no different. Besides, sewing was cathartic for her. It reminded her of home, and despite the pang of longing she felt whenever it crossed her mind, the thoughts still gave her some comfort. Her family was safe, Soris was free of any repercussions of the assault on the Arl's home, and Shianni... well, they couldn't hurt her any more than they already had. She still had images of her cousin broken and battered on floor, crying out for help.

"Ow!" Alistair's exclamation broke her from her thoughts. Twisting about, she caught a glimpse of her fellow Warden cradling his hand, while Riley stamped his front paws into the ground, waggling his rear in the air. The mabari frolicked around Alistair in bounding leaps, punctuated by puppy-like yips, before returning the ox bone she had given him earlier. He curled around it protectively, much like a mother might a child, and let out a low growl, before returning his attentions to the thin layer of muscle still clinging to the dislocated limb.

Setting her things down, she scurried over to the pair, brow furrowed in concern. "Alistair? A-are you all right?" Camilia paused, cocking her head at her mabari, before tilting back towards the ex-templar. "Riley didn't hurt you, did he?"

The Warden muttered something she couldn't hear before thrusting his hand out toward her, voice pitched in a sad whine that caused Riley to look up from his meal for just a moment. "Look! I'm bleeding! Your "cute puppy" bit me!" Alistair's lower lip jutted out, hazel eyes going wide. "It _hurts_, Cam."

The brindle dog took that moment to snort in Alistair's direction, growling and picking up his bone, dragging it over to the fire, barking sharply back at him once he settled once more. Camilia arched a brow at the blond man, lips pursed. "You tried to take his bone!" she said, laughing incredulously through her words. "Alistair! Y-you're Fereldan! W-we're taught from b-birth _not to touch a dog's food_."

"We were _playing_," he insisted as she grabbed him by the wrist and led him back to the bonfire (though she was sure to get a good distance away from Riley), "and then he just decided he didn't want to _play_ anymore and thought he'd tell me with a sweet love-_gnaw_." Huffing indignantly, her fellow Warden flopped onto a log, looking thoroughly put out.

Camilia sighed as she grabbed for their pack of medical supplies and her water skin, sitting by his side and setting his injured hand on her knee. "I-I don't care if you were "just playing"," she chided, taking on what she felt was a suitably Wynne-like tone, "you d-don't mess with a mabari's food." As she spoke, she removed a soft square of cloth from the bag, uncorking her canteen and wetting the fabric, slowly beginning to clean off the excess blood.

Alistair winced. "Hey, hey; _be gentle_, won't you?" She tried to stop herself, but regardless of her efforts, her eyes rolled. "I'm _serious_," he protested to her silent mockery. "I'm very fragile, you know. I need to be touched a certain way."

The cloth dropped onto the grass, and her green eyes doubled in size – _at least_. She could feel the blood rushing to her cheeks; she felt mortified, but she couldn't avert her eyes. He was doing much the same, jaw slack, occasional squeaks that really didn't resemble _noise_ let alone full words. They just kept staring at each other. Silent. Blushing. _Thinking about the ways he-_ her saucier side began to intone (which sounded suspiciously like an Antivan version of herself) only to be cut off by her Warden side – _Camilia Tabris you will stop that line of thought __**this instant **__and finish cleaning his wound and __**nothing else.**_

Whimpering, Cami nodded to herself, grabbing the cloth and finishing removing the blood, before grabbing a flask of alcohol from the pack. "I-I'm afraid... I can't... be gentle," she managed, swallowing hard, desperately trying to ignore the connotations behind the words should he choose to... _hear_ things that way. "Sorry, but.. I-I need to.. clean the wound."

Clearing his throat, he rubbed his healthy hand on the back of his neck, sheepish grin on his face. "Ah... yes. I know... Look, I really didn't – uh – mean something... by that. It was a joke. The touching. I don't even know how I-" Alistair turned an impressive shade of purplish-red, eyes shifting upward toward the sky, murmuring something she couldn't quite catch. "Can we pretend I didn't just chew on both of my feet as if they were made of the finest brie in the land?"

She nodded, offering what she hoped was a reassuring smile to him, before dabbing a clean corner of the cloth into the liquor. Cradling his hand in her much smaller one, Camilia smoothed the alcohol-laden fabric over the bite wound, muttering several apologies as her patient squirmed and whined and whimpered, though he quieted once she dried his skin off. Tossing the rag aside, she fished out the linen strips they used for bandages. Holding one between her teeth, she paused to tuck her hair behind her ears. After, she kept the end of the strip in her mouth, flipping the roll of cloth out to unfurl it completely, and began wrapping Alistair's hand.

Neither of them talked, thus she worked quickly, crossing the linen around his palm and thumb, attempting to make it loose enough so that he could still have a good grip, but tight enough to help the cut. Once finished, she tilted her head up with a broad, triumphant smile. "Th-there you go, Al," she said, patting his forearm. "Since i-it's your shield arm, things sh-should hold together."

The templar experimentally flexed his hand, grimacing when he attempted to make a fist. "Ow." He pouted. "Still hurts." Chuckling, he shook his head. "But that's my fault, isn't it? Sorry. You were right; that was stupid of me."

"Stop that." The force behind her voice surprised even _her_, to the point of reeling back in shock, if only slightly; Alistair did much the same. Clearing her throat, she continued. "I mean... it _was_ p-pretty silly, but everyone makes mistakes." Cami's shoulders bobbed up and down. "Now you know not to try and play with him when he has food around."

"How do you _do that?_" When she shot him a confused look, he smiled, gesturing toward her with his mended hand. "See the bright side of things, no matter what. I mean, I thought I was Ser Optimism, but then I met _you_, and you take that title, along with Lady Sunshineandgiggles." Tilting his head, Alistair's brow pinched together. "It's... really nice to have someone around that makes things not seem so dire, is all I meant."

"Lady Sunshineandgiggles?" she repeated, cocking her head slightly. As if to prove him right, a wave of high-pitched titters bubbled up from her throat, though she soon controlled herself, remembering his words after that ridiculous "title". "Th-thank you. I'm glad you th-think so; usually it grates on people." She shrugged, smiling brightly. "I don't mind it, though." Once again, she tilted her head, before flashing her teeth in a grin, leaning down and planting a small kiss on his wounded palm. "There. All better now, right?" she teased as she righted herself.

Alistair's eyes were glued to his palm for a few passing moments, before his hazel eyes found her face. Chewing his lip through a timid smile, he raised a brow. "I believe your adorable ball of fluff over there managed to get my other hand, too," he answered, eyes darting to the clearly uninjured appendage, and back again. "It's not bad, though. Just a kiss ought to fix it right up."

At first, she didn't know what he was talking about, but just as she was going to tell him his other hand didn't look wounded at all, it dawned on her, leaving her with a finger in the air, and her mouth hanging open stupidly. Clicking her teeth, she shut the gaping hole, letting her hand drop as well, blinking a few times as she processed what that meant... it only took her a few minutes to realize she had absolutely _no idea_ what the request eluded to, so instead of fussing over it, she leaned down again, and brushed her lips against his other palm, this time touching skin.

As she pulled herself back up, Alistair was smirking. She had no idea why. "Thank you," he murmured, cheeks twitching. "But... I'm afraid that mean dog of yours got me right on the cheek, too." His shoulders bobbed non-nonchalantly. "Flying dogs also have a mean right hook."

He looked at her expectantly, sucking on his bottom lip, when Riley decided to trot over, settling his head in his mistress' lap, looking up at the pair of them with little to no interest seeing as they had a distinct lack of food. That's when she got the idea. Cami was flummoxed on where it came from, but Maker take her if it wasn't a hilarious image. Besides, this is what he gets for making up fake injuries for kisses.

Leaning a bit closer to him, her voice actually _dropped_. A little. It was far from seductive, but she had to take what she could get, and still gave herself a mental pat on the back. "Alright, then," she said, scraping her teeth on the lower swell of her mouth. "Y-you have to close your eyes for this, though. I-it's a complicated procedure and you watching me m-might screw me up."

Honestly, she assumed he'd figure it out before she even got this far; he was a joker, after all. Cami expected him to spot it a mile away... but he closed his eyes, and even went so far as to lean his cheek over toward her. She, too, leaned down, but not for Alistair; instead she went to Riley's ear, whispering, "time to make up with Al, boy."

The mabari barked happily, and Camilia scrambled off the log just in time to avoid a beast of a dog catapulting itself onto Alistair's lap, knocking him off the log and giving him slobbery licks all over his poor face. "Hey!" her victim exclaimed, the lone syllable punctuated with grunts and groans and a multitudes of "ew"s and "gross"s. For her part, she was doubled over with laughter so belly-shakingly powerful, she ended up clutching her stomach, tears pooling in her eyes.

Finally, she managed to squeak out a command for Riley to leave him be; the dog obeyed, but not without a final passing lick to the prone man's hair, striding away from them both and entering Camilia's tent as if he owned it. Alistair propped himself up on one elbow, using his other hand to vainly wipe at the drool covering his face. Glaring at her through swipes of his palm he grumbled out, "What in the Maker's name was that for?"

Somehow, she managed to speak through the endless waves of giggles. "Y-you... ne-needed... kiss." Another, louder wave of laughter shook her body, though she quickly bit her lip to avoid being too loud. Taking a few deep breaths, she tried again. "Riley w-wanted to make up, and you needed a kiss," she said, having the decency to look a bit sheepish about the whole thing, although it was thwarted by the ridiculous grin curving her lips.

Alistair looked like he was _angry_ for all of one second, before letting out a bark of incredulous laughter. "You... _you_, of all people, just..." he paused, shaking his head and laughing again. "You pulled a _prank_ on me, Cami; I'm so proud."

Camilia actually beamed at that, clicking her heels together before going over to him, helping him up. "Thanks!" she said, smile threatening to make her eyes disappear. "I thought you'd ap-preciate it." She was about to tell him "good night" when a little voice in her head (she really couldn't tell who it sounded like, though) told her to make it up to him. Mentally shrugging, she rocked up onto the balls of her feet and placed a kiss just beneath his ear, avoiding the dog slobber. "There you go!" Not bothering – or wanting – to see his reaction, she rushed into her tent, missing a bewildered ex-templar run his fingers over the same spot, with a tiny, but undoubtedly warm smile gracing his lips.


End file.
